


Gods and Monsters

by kopycat_101



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Childhood Friends, Deities, Developing Friendships, Dungeons & Dragons Pantheons, Except in this AU thats a True Statement, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Gods, Growing Up, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Protective Siblings, Siblings, Worldbuilding, keyleth voice: we're pratically Gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopycat_101/pseuds/kopycat_101
Summary: Keyleth remembers not all the faces of the other smaller deities she has met in her life, because there are many, and the list is nearly as vast as that of the Pantheon of Exandria. She does, however, have the occasional memory that will give her a name, or a face, or both.Those that she can remember the most clearly of all are the ones that are either very precious to her or had too much of an interesting character to simply forget, even with the passage of time.(A Gods and Goddesses AU of Critical Role.)
Relationships: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot, Keyleth & Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Keyleth & Vex'ahlia (Critical Role), Keyleth & Vox Machina, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III & Keyleth, Vax'ildan & Vex'ahlia (Critical Role)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	Gods and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working on other things, but this idea popped in my head and wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> Gods and Goddesses AU for Critical Role! It's super fun to try and translate the characters into this context, and fit them with what God they'd be descended from. Especially with the characters that aren't canonically big on religion or the Gods, like Keyleth and Percy.

Keyleth remembers not the days of youth with crystal clarity, though she cherishes each memory that lies untouched within her mind.

Snippets of a time past—of her Mother braiding her hair and cupping her tiny hands within Her larger ones, murmuring the secrets of growth and the earth to her. The whipping of wind at the highest of peaks with the Air Ashari, the spray of salty ocean brine with the Water Ashari, the tremble of packed earth with the Earth Ashari, the smell of brimstone with the Fire Ashari.

She knows she has learned, and learned well, these lessons from Mother. It is how she is able to speak with the plants that grow in Her domain, coaxing them to grow and flourish. It is how she learns of the elements, of the expanse of air and water and earth and flame.

Keyleth remembers not the days of her youth, not in crystal clarity, but she cherishes them all regardless. Mother is a busy woman, Creator and Goddess of Her Domain, of Nature itself, of the Elements. Even if the Dawnfather is the God of Sun and agriculture, the Wildmother must work in tandem with Him to keep all the plants that bud from His Light growing strong for them all, in both Exandria and the Mortal Realm.

Despite not spending the most time with Melora, Keyleth has not wanted for company. Between the four Ashari tribes, and her countless family members, and the other deities of Nature, there is plenty of people to occupy her, even outside of Mother. And that is without taking into consideration the meetings of the Gods and Goddesses of Exandria, bringing all the deities of the Pantheon together; even the young fledglings without a set Domain or following of worship, like herself.

Keyleth remembers not all the faces of the other smaller deities she has met in her life, because there are many, and the list is nearly as vast as that of the Pantheon of Exandria. She does, however, have the occasional memory that will give her a name, or a face, or both.

Those that she can remember the most clearly of all are the ones that are either very precious to her or had too much of an interesting character to simply forget, even with the passage of time.

Scanlan, deity of Song, also known for his hold and talents of Merriment and Forbidden Trysts and Bountiful Loins. The latter two are titles that should not be known to young and impressionable ears, but Keyleth is perceptive and listens well, especially when she lacks in her own abilities of speech. And listening has its own type of power, she’s found.

Scanlan most certainly enjoys it when she listens—or, well, when anyone in general listens, really.

Scanlan is a small man, but that spoke not of his lack of personality, for he is so loud and lively and charming it’s overwhelming to be around. He is older than Keyleth, and yet acts with the maturity and lack of decorum of someone her junior, along with easily being half her height or shorter.

He has no concrete following of worship, though his exploits across the Mortal Realm has slowly been earning him a name. Many Mortals think him a particularly prolific wandering bard, is all; as if Scanlan could be anything but a mere bard, of all things. They are blind to the otherworldly nature of his charisma and wit and voice, unable to discern how the man manages to never seemingly age and keep such a youthful charm, and yet thinking nothing of such a large inconsistency.

Once the Mortals realize he is a God walking amongst them, well. His lack of following will no doubt change. And very quickly.

Though he has not the strength and age of a God, not just yet, his voice is that of one. He can weave the most splendid stories, words like molten gold, holding perfect pitch that aid in his melodies to resound like the ringing of bells.

Keyleth knows not which God or Goddess he draws strength from, not exactly, for Scanlan is capricious and secretive in spite of his bombastic nature and propensity for hogging the spotlight. But Scanlan is a force all on his own and seemingly needs not the guidance of a greater deity. And his singing is truly divine, so much so that it’s a wonder he is not a Siren, for all the allure of his tunes.

Keyleth remembers Scanlan well, because he is charismatic and loud and everything she is not. He wanders the Mortal Realm with no rules or worries, and Keyleth truly wishes she held his freedom of movement and tongue.

But, no. For all of Keyleth’s lessons and her trips to the Ashari tribes, she is grounded to Her Domain. Mother is awe-inspiring in many respects, but She is also careful and protective. Melora’s Domain is too vast, Keyleth knows, and it is easy to be lost within any number of its environments. Melora’s grasp stretches across Exandria, often bordering the Domains of other Gods and Goddesses.

There are places close to those borders that are not for the faint of heart.

Such as the Domain of the Raven Queen.

The Raven Queen is…intimidating. She is not cruel, even if She presides over Death. But She is overwhelming, and Her Domain is all that Melora’s is not.

It is truly a wonder how the Raven Queen is married to the Dawnfather—such completely different Domains, nearly exact opposites— their Union creating three children and very intruiging deities-to-be.

Vax’ildan and Vex’ahlia are twins, a brother and sister respectively. They are around Keyleth’s own age. Thusly, she has seen much of them over the years during the meetings of the Pantheon, dragged by their parents and thrown together to play outside in the gardens so that the adults may get to business.

Vax and Vex—insistent on nicknames for the sake of making things ironically less complicated and more complicated at once—are an interesting pair. One does not come without the other. They are all spindly limbs and pale skin and refined bone structure, cheekbones jutting sharp even under the pudge of childhood. Their hair is always long, like rivers of ink, their eyes dark as deep pits of the unknown and surrounded by barren-branched forests of eyelashes.

They are like reflections of one another, near perfect mirror images. It is…Unsettling. But intriguing. And very much confusing to tell them apart, because the twins wear the penchant robes that the Raven Queen and Dawnfather both favor half the time. The other half, they switch between which twin wants to wear pants and which wants to wear a skirt.

The two shadow one another, Vex and Vax, Vax and Vex, like they are one being. They are all but attached to the hip, and with just nary a glance, they have full conversations.

It takes a few years of acquaintanceship—possibly tentative friendship— to find any discernible differences between the two. But there _are_ , thankfully enough, and the differences shine through, subtle but clear to all those that pay attention. And Keyleth has always been good at paying attention.

It becomes slowly apparent that Vex’ahlia takes after more of her Father, a proficiency with a bow and the gait of a Hunter. She even adopts a bear cub at one point as a companion—something that has Keyleth all but gushing to see—intent to raise little Trinket into a powerful beast that will help her in her Hunts.

Vex will some day make a wonderful Goddess of the Hunt, Keyleth knows, as steadily as she knows that she herself will become a Goddess of Nature alongside Mother. It is a perfect fusion of the Dawnfather and the Raven Queen’s talents, what Vex is striving to become. Someone that upholds the Creations of the Sun and of Light and Nature, but who brings about their Deaths in a most Honorable of ways.

Vax’ildan is a little harder to pinpoint. He does not show much of his own talents, and speaks even less of them, if that is even possible. Vax is dark and brooding and will no doubt follow his Mother as a deity of Death in some way, but there is seemingly no specific title he is wanting to achieve just yet.

Though he is quite good at sneaking and thievery, if his abilities to filch fine sweets and desserts and jewels with nary a whisper from the Banquets is anything to go by. Perhaps he will find his own path, something that makes his eyes shine in delight and confidence other than standing beside his sister or teasing her.

He tends to tease her quite a bit, and it seems to be something he very much enjoys. Vax will always lord over Vex the fact that he is one centimeter taller and five minutes older than her, calling her Stubby even as he helps her re-braid her long plait of hair. Around his twin sister, his amusement and fondness are plain to see, and his laughter is so unfettered and free, it warms Keyleth’s heart.

Keyleth herself does not have any siblings, though she has many brothers and sisters in other respects. The members of the Ashari tribes, her extensive family, the other deities of Nature that help her and the Wildmother protect and grow Her Domain.

Keyleth finds the bond between Vex and Vax to be amazing, and so, so precious. She does not want anything to come between the twins, though there could be any number of factors that could do so, sadly enough.

Gaining their Titles could be one of them.

Once a deity finds a path, and they are accomplished in it, they may gain a Title. Something that they are known for. Something that will help in describing both themselves and their future Domain.

Vex’ahlia’s will obviously have to do with the Hunt…But Keyleth does not have an inkling of a clue what Vax’ildan’s will be.

He will need to find a path soon, or else he will not grow properly alongside his sister. Those that do not find a path, who idle, who do not gather a following—they stay in a similar state. As if suspended in time.

For both the twins’ sakes, Keyleth wishes Vax’ildan well on his journey of self-discovery.

Or perhaps she simply does not know him well enough, and he already has his path chosen. If so, all the better.

Their younger sister, Velora (short for a truly ghastly name of Vel’oranishia) is a tiny sprite of a thing. She has similar enough coloring and bone structure to the twins, but her eyes are golden, like Pelor’s own piercing gaze that both reflects Light and is Light itself. She is quite enthusiastic of wearing the pelts and feathers of the kills of the Hunt, but is so young, she knows not what path she shall take as a deity.

For little Velora, that is fine. She has time before she must choose.

Even those that have not chosen in proper time can become quite large and strong, after all, if Grog Strongjaw is anything to go by.

Grog used to be but a lowly being from the Mortal Realm. A type of Gorgon; one of the Stormlord’s Goliaths, specifically. Keyleth knows he had been part of the Strongjaw herd of Goliaths, famous as the strongest herd of them all, though it’s still a bit of a mystery as to how Grog himself Ascended into the status of a deity, even a minor one as he is. Kord is the God of Battle and Warfare, so perhaps Grog’s proficiency in Battle was enough to do so…?

It must have been some Battle to have done so. Keyleth knows for a _fact_ that no other Goliath has managed to reach the position of a deity before Grog.

It is a mystery, even if Grog himself is not one. He is a very simple man, very open and forthright, almost to the point of bluntness and rudeness. He is also, quite obviously, not the brightest of the Dawnfather’s rays of light. It seems easy enough to make him into the butt of a joke, if Scanlan’s deft weaving of words is anything to go by, though Grog is too thick to notice when he’s being insulted. Or perhaps he is just not used to speaking with someone as silver-tongued as Scanlan. Scanlan is liable to make a fool of just about any minor deity, really, Keyleth’s found.

Grog is not the brightest, but he hides nothing, and seemingly has no complicated wants or needs. The simplest of life’s pleasures amuse him. So long as he has ale to drink and food to eat, and the occasional person to fight, he is happy and sated, like a very well-trained guard dog instead of what a deity should properly be.

He has a surprising amount of patience and forgiveness in him. Some of the other deities like to play pranks on him, little things like adding odd flavors to his ale that make him befuddled or stick his tongue out in disgust from the aftertaste. Or switching the meats he loves to stack on his plate during Banquets for vegetables, instead. Each time, he is confused and laughs it off, willing to blame it on him not thinking clearly from the ale or merriment. And when he _does_ catch someone in the act, he will tend to ruffle the offender’s hair or clap them on the back for their attempts being thwarted, with no ill intent in sight.

However, there are times where the man’s patience is tested, put on thin ice. One particular incident that was very memorable indeed starred Vax’ildan. Vax—too confident by halves in his skills in stealth—had one day decided to pursue the suicidal task of shaving the Goliath’s beard off when the man passed out to take a nap during a Banquet, too sated by ale to care about staying conscious.

Vax had only managed to get to the halfway point of shaving off Grog’s beard, before the Goliath’s eyes snapped open with a roar and a wild swing of a meaty fist, which Vax had barely dodged with a terrified squeak that could put a mouse to shame in its pitch.

Grog had not been pleased by the transgression, not one bit, roaring that he had only managed to gain his beard when Kord had made him a deity. Vax looked nearly close to wetting himself then and there, staring with wide-eyed horror as Grog spit and snarled at him. But for all of Grog’s howling and threats, he did not lay a hand on Vax, nor even made an aggressive move to do so. Did not even think to draw a weapon— but that may have more to do with his hands being more than enough to serve as weapons.

Though the other deities most certainly got the message loud and clear: do not mess with Grog Strongjaw’s beard.

He is a very, _very_ intimidating man, after all. For all his simple nature, and nearly puppy-ish way he went about being a deity, Grog had Ascended for a reason. And the others should not forget that.

Though paradoxically enough, Grog can also be gentle when he needs to be, for a man of his size and nature, a man who Ascended for his abilities to kill.

  
Some of the younger deities have plucked up the courage to clamber onto the Goliath as if he is a challenge to face, a tree to scale and conquer instead of a dangerous mountain of a man. He allows it—almost encourages it, even—if the wide grins that bare too many jagged teeth and the booming laugh more rumbling thunder than a sound of joy, are anything to go by. The De Rolo children in particular seem utterly fascinated by Grog’s stature and strength, clambering over him while all the while asking—pleading, really—to Forge him amazing weapons for him to use in Battle.

These attempts by the child-deities are most likely fueled by the easy acceptance—even full enthusiasm—of Grog regularly allowing one of his friends to perch on his shoulder.

For you see, if one is to consider Grog, well, another deity is not far behind.

There is Pike Trickfoot. Incredibly tiny, incredibly kind, always ready with a bright smile, warm and genuine. If she is not by her Goddess’ side, she is by Grog’s. There is no hesitation whenever he plucks her from the ground, picking her up so she can sit on his shoulder like a fluttering bird perches on a poisonous and mighty Creation of the Wildmother.

Pike appeared at just about the same time as Grog had, perhaps a bit before. She is almost always by the side of the Everlight, following Her every step. Only when Sarenrae gently shoos her to go do other things does Pike allow herself to leave her vigil, and every instance she instantly homes in on Grog like a beacon.

Pike is one of the Everlight’s Champions. That is undeniable by the golden-platinum hair and the sky-blue eyes she shares with Sarenrae, though Pike’s brows and lashes are a stark black in contrast to her hair, as delicate and light as strands of silk. She is always wearing gleaming silver plate armor, the symbol of her Goddess strung on her person in the form of a necklace. There is a constant, low _thump thump thump_ of when the symbol bounces against her chest-plate. Proud, but not overly so, not so noisy as to distract.

Pike seems to make a good Champion for Sarenrae, though many were left wondering from where she had come from. Keyleth had also been curious, but to a lesser degree, because the news had trickled down from the Everlight to her elder brother, the Dawnfather, down to the Wildmother. Mother eventually told a select few, including Keyleth herself, of the newest addition to Sarenrae’s small following.

The Everlight was doing Her best to bolster Her diminished Domain, still recovering from The Calamity. Most of Her followers had been slain, and the few that were left were clinging on, passing the Everlight’s teachings to their offspring. It will be slow going, to rebuild Her following to what it once was, but She does not seem to be in a rush to do so.

Sarenrae is not a jealous or selfish Goddess, after all. As the sister of Pelor, Her Domain overlaps with His often enough, yet She finds distinction and strength in Her own way of doing things.

The Everlight is patient, and She is kind, and She deserves to build Her following once more. To have a new Champion She had taken under Her light is a very nice boon, indeed.

However, some of the other deities did not think so.

For you see, there is no Trickfoot family in Exandria, not even under the Moonweaver. At Pike’s first few appearances, there were whispers. Whispers that spread, confused and a little on-edge, that Trickfoot sounds not a name from a proper place. A proper God.

Trickfoot sounds the name of someone who would follow the Betrayer Gods, doesn’t it? And isn’t that terribly upsetting, and just a bit unsettling?

If the Everlight were not one of the Prime Gods, one of the oldest in the Pantheon, there would be no doubt an investigation, at the least. A trial and accusation of treason, at the worst.

But Sarenrae is calm in Her confidence, and before long the news spreads that the little deity that is Her newest Champion is, in fact, a Mortal that has Ascended. A martyr who battled and bled for good and the Everlight’s teachings, and that quiets down any murmurs of dissent and dissatisfaction over the surname Trickfoot, over Pike’s appearances by the Everlight’s side.

Even if it had not, Pelor’s support of His sister and Her newest Champion would quell any lingering unrest.

There are other deities that are, of course, quite fascinating to Keyleth. The congregation of Vysorens that serve Ioun, all but the youngest of the bookkeepers allowed inside the Pantheon meetings, leaving such gems as Allura free to speak and trade spells with. Allura was intelligent and polite, much more talkative and amendable than the older Vysorens, and easy for Keyleth to speak with, which she was forever grateful for.

There was Devo’ssa in all Their androgynous glory, taking a more humanoid form alongside Their mother Bahamut when in meetings with the Pantheon, in order to fit into the meeting chambers. Devo’ssa’s son Gilmore would be left out in the gardens to mingle with the other deities, tending towards a humanoid form of a handsome, bronze-skinned man with waves of dark hair. Gilmore always had a charming smile in place and would do little tricks of magic to entertain the child-deities in attendance.

The long line of De Rolo children, Julius and Vesper and Percival and the others, are particularly fun to see at gatherings. They are all bright-eyed young deities, boasting what new inventions they have Created at the Allhammer’s Forge, vying for acknowledgement and attention and all but ready for their Titles. Skin bronzed and hair in various colors of natural metals, they look like children crafted by the Allhammer Himself, even if they are from a line of accomplished Smiths that help Moradin in His Creations.

The De Rolo children are also much younger than Keyleth. The eldest, Julius, is barely hitting puberty the last time Keyleth sees him, when she herself has come of age at twenty. The baby of the family, little Cassandra, could possibly still be considered a toddler, although she is still quite accomplished with tinkering and has even Forged her own daggers before.

The most enthusiastic of them to spend time with Keyleth is actually one of the middle children, Percival. Barely reaching her hip, little Percy is very intelligent and articulate, iron-grey eyes sharp. His insistence on conferring with Keyleth is sweet, especially when he reveals that he wants her opinion as a deity of Nature to make sure his Creations will not overtake or harm Nature itself.

She would almost think he’d developed a puppy crush on her with just how much he brightens up when speaking with her, and how often he tries tracking her down to gush about his newest attempts at the Forge. But the way Percy looks to her is much different than Julius and Vesper, the two eldest of the De Rolos, who are already affected by hormones and locked in a not-so-silent battle against one another for Keyleth’s (very much bemused) affections. Percy simply wants a differing opinion to help him be balanced in his Creations, while his elder siblings bat their lashes at her and blush whenever she smiles at them.

They are very sweet children, and Keyleth wishes them all luck with their future Titles and Domains.

Titles and Domains they may or may not gain, because of certain circumstances—but it’s better to think positively, isn’t it?

Keyleth remembers not the days of her youth with perfect clarity, nor does she remember all the deities she meets. But those that she does, she believes are hard for her to forget.

(She will soon enough wish for these untroubled, simple times, times in which she held very little worries of if she will ever see her acquaintances-made-friends ever again.

Especially with what ends up happening to the De Rolos…)

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is nearly 4000 words of worldbuilding bullshit, and I am so sorry.
> 
> Thanks for all of you that have managed to finish and have come this far. You're the true MVPs.


End file.
